


Teach Me How To Interface

by Sonamae



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fingerfucking, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Robot Hell, Sticky Sex, laughing during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamae/pseuds/Sonamae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tailgate finally gets new upgrades and has no idea what they mean.  Cyclonus offers to teach him and some kinky stuff starts happening.  Porn without a real plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Me How To Interface

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my best frond, if you see any mistakes let me know because I'm not really confident in my editing.

 Rodimus had almost everybot on board placing bets for when this thing between Tailgate and Cyclonus would become ‘ _official_ ’.  He’d thought it would take those two fragging other bots to realize that they were stupidly in love with one another.  Ultra Magnus, while not in any of the betting pools, had assumed Cyclonus would confess first as a proper gentle _should_.  Swerve, who had a great deal of money sunken into his bet, was rooting for Tailgate to stumbling confess his love and then frag the larger bot senseless.  All the crew had different opinions, but none were even close to what really happened.  
  
 Rung found the entire debacle delightful and frustrating as he video called his friend and told him about the book this would get him.  He also complained that the current state of Tailgate and Cyclonus’ relationship was verging on, if not already breeching, something terribly unhealthy.  Fortress Maximus had just sighed and reassured Rung by saying ‘They’re adults, they need to figure it out for themselves.  It’ll be healthy when they do.’ 

 Now, Rung didn’t particularly _believe_ him, but he’d promised not to intervene for at least another three months.  
  
 Any longer than that and he’d be far too worried over their mental health.  Anyone with optics, and frag, even a few that didn’t possess them, could see that Tailgate and Cyclonus were _pining_ over one another.  If he heard ‘I hope he finds somebot who makes him happy’ one more time… well he’d tell them both the truth and sleep better at night because of it.  
  
 Out of all the people who assumed they would be the ones to bring these two together, no one _would_ or even _could_ have known that _Ratchet_ would be the key to undoing all that pent up fawning.  The really funny bit was that Ratchet hadn’t even done it on _purpose_.  
  
 All he’d done was upgrade the minibot to standard.  
  
 He’d had no idea what he’d done, or the kind of hell he’d unleashed for the next year to all of Tailgate and Cyclonus’ neighbors.  
  
\--  
  
 Everything was hot and Tailgate felt his vents pushing overdrive when he woke up suddenly from recharge.  This had never happened before, and he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on.  There was a thick purr of his engines rumbling in his chest, but it wasn’t from adrenaline or an overheated fever.  He didn’t dare open his optics yet, he wasn’t entirely sure he was even awake.  A quick system check told him that yes, he was awake, but there was still something… odd going on.  
  
 There was a new meter on his lists of vitals to check before unplugging from recharge.  This hadn’t been there last night when he’d went to see Ratchet, had he caught a virus?  He willed the meter closer and read the small text next to the two monitors.  One looked just like a fuel tank gauge and next to it were the words ‘Self Refilling Transfuild.’  The tank was full and actually blinking to be emptied.  Okay, so he’d need to figure that out.  
  
 The next was a half circle measuring meter with four colors as the display.  On the bottom left was white, next to it was green, yellow, and then there was a thin strip of red all the way to the right.  The text there read ‘Overload Gauge.’  The little black holographic needle was hovering between green and yellow, flicking to the right ever few seconds and getting faster.  
  
 Tailgate shifted on the berth to give his stiff joints some release and froze.  His optics flicked online and all his check up screens disappeared.  He’d been having the most pleasant dream about… well, a certain bot, but now he was _dripping_.  From him _valve_.  That was _not_ good, that _couldn’t_ be good, no way in this or any solar system could this be _good_.  
  
 But then Tailgate tried sitting up and the way the fluid dripped in and around the rim of his valve only made his engines purr louder.  
  
 That wasn’t supposed to happen!  How was that happening?  Fluid on your valve was _not_ a good thing, valves were _not_ meant to have fluid in them!  
  
 Tailgate turned and felt more of the fluid roll down his thighs as he pushed himself into a sitting position.  He’d just make his way to the wash rack and clean himself up, then he’d call Ratchet and ask what kind of virus could make someone’s valve _drip_.  
  
 At least that had been his plan, right up until he looked up to climb off his berth and saw Cyclonus across the room staring at him with wide optics.  
  
 Wide, _dark_ optics.  
  
 Oh Primus.  Oh please swallow him up and make this never have happened.  He did _not_ need to be revving his engines in front of the _one_ bot on this ship he wanted the most!  Why was life out to frag him in the aft?  
  
 “Good morning.” Cyclonus muttered, voice dark and deep.  Tailgate felt something in his valve clench and the fluids got thicker.  He shouldn’t have felt anything in his valve, it was all metal. “Pleasant… dream, I take it?” Primus take the wheel.  
  
 Tailgate could feel his internals boiling at the mere implication.  Cyclonus could tell he was revved, that or he was trying to be polite.  No, he had to be asking out of a polite sense of courtesy, Cyclonus wasn’t lewd like other bots.  He was a wonderful gentlebot, after all he always did the sweetest things to assure Tailgate was happy.  The mini-bot swallowed and closed his optics, trying to ignore the fluid building up behind his interface panel.  
  
 “Ah… yes.” His voice came out as a wrecked squeak, his fans stuttering and then picking up even louder.  He just needed to think about something else, something that wasn’t sexy.  Anything that wasn’t Cyclonus related would do.  With great effort he opened his optics and attempted to slip off the berth, but when he did there was a very loud _slosh_ from behind his interface panel and he froze. “What is going on?” He couldn’t help the words that escaped his vocalizer, even as he covered his mouth.  
  
 Oh Primus, his _mouth_ was showing.  Why had his face mask retracted during recharge?  
  
 “If you need some alone time, I’m more than happy to leave for a few-” Tailgate cut Cyclonus off with a yelp.  The taller bot had been standing, ready to get up and leave the hab suite and probably walk around the ship, but he stilled at Tailgate’s plea. “… Tailgate?” His voice sent another tight clench into Tailgate’s valve.  Unconsciously he’d recorded that one line, and now he was replaying it against his will.  His thighs trembled as the fluid started dripping through the seams of his interface panel.  
  
 “What’s happening to me?” Tailgate asked, and as revved as he was he was still afraid.  The fear should have made it go away, should have shut it down, but for some reason it stayed.  Just like the strange fluid and the new nerves in places he didn’t want them to be. “Cyclonus I’m scared and… and I’m _wet_.  Why am I wet?” He should have felt more shame about motioning toward his interface panel, but this was Cyclonus for frags sake.  
  
 This bot had saved Tailgate’s life more times that he could count.  Maybe he’d be okay with saving it once more?  
  
 Cyclonus, to his credit, sat on the edge of the berth and tilted his head.  He looked as confused as Tailgate felt. “You know what’s happening, I thought it was rather obvious.” His voice was low and near a murmur and Tailgate felt an odd flutter that he wasn’t expecting.  It made his hips jerk and he grabbed onto Cyclonus’ arm with both his hands since the bot had gotten closer.  
  
 “I knew it,” Tailgate whimpered as he shuttered his optics, “I’ve got a virus from the newest upgrade.  I thought if I held off on the newest ones that-” Cyclonus cut him off with a bark of laughter.  
  
 “Tailgate, what are you talking about?  What updates?” A warm hand rested over Tailgate’s and he looked up to stare at those dark red lights.  They made him want to squirm but he knew better.  If he squirmed than this weird fluid would drip, or maybe even _spew_ out of his seams.  
  
 That was just what he needed, to look like he emptied his transmission fluid all over the bed in front of his crush.  Tailgate shook his head and tried to focus, he dragged up the numbers and recited them.  
  
 “Update 304.15.09 through Update 503.34.07.” He tried not to sigh when he admitted that.  He waited for Cyclonus to respond.  Waited for him to say ‘Well let’s get you to Ratchet,’ but he didn’t.  
  
 Instead, Cyclonus’ engine _revved_.  Loudly.  
  
 The larger bots claws reached out and tilted Tailgate’s face up, making sure they could stare at one another.  Tailgate tried desperately to keep his engine from echoing every purr of Cyclonus’, but it was pointless.  Why this made him feel so hot he almost didn’t want to know.  
  
 When Cyclonus spoke again, his voice was a near murmur as he leaned closer. “I’m going to take this as a sign that Ratchet didn’t brief you on any new equipment you received with the upgrades?”  Tailgate swallowed and this time he _did_ squirm.  Whatever was between his legs dripped out of his seams and he had to use an auto lock on his interface panel to keep it from springing open.  
  
 He shook his head no and Cyclonus sighed, optics shutting and his glossa running over his lip plates.  Tailgate swallowed around nothing and heard his fans stutter as he followed the path of that glossa slowly.  Something inside of him pinged and when he closed his eyes to check his systems.  He was now in the yellow on that new gauge.  
  
 Cyclonus leaned forward and Tailgate could feel his EM field brush against him.  He trembled and felt the nerves in his legs tense up for some reason. “It’s not a virus, it’s just new equipment.” The echo in Tailgate’s audio receptors made him gasp, fingers clasping tightly on Cyclonus’. “You’ll need to figure out how to get rid of all the transfluid before your systems calm down.  Although you could just wait it out, but that could take hours.” Tailgate whimpered at the thought.  Sitting here in this… transfluid, for hours?  
  
 There was _no_ way he could do that, it would drive him insane.  It was _already_ driving him insane, and what was even worse was that he was _enjoying_ it.  Tailgate whimpered before Cyclonus hushed him with a vent of air against his helm.  The feel of something so intimate made the mini-bot gasp and the claws under his chin dragging up the side of his cheek made him shiver.  
  
 “Poor thing,” Cyclonus squeezed Tailgate’s hand as in in reassurance, “you wouldn’t have any idea where to start would you.” It was more a statement than a question, and in the back of Tailgate’s processor something ticked about that.  He pushed his discomfort aside to focus on Cyclonus’ voice.  That deep rumble that poured into Tailgate’s processor like melted scrap into a new mold was enticing.  The sound was so hot to Tailgate’s audio receptors that he swore it was sliding across every single one of his nerve endings.  He wanted to lean forward and let that voice take him over, control his every move.  Tailgate’s fans flickered so hard they stuttered at the thought, and Cyclonus’ hushed him with a gentle caress to the side of his helm.  
  
 “Easy now, stay with me.  Don’t drift into another recharge.” Cyclonus lifted Tailgate’s face up and held him through his trembling.  The mini couldn’t find room to argue, why would he want to slip off into a recharge when the real thing was right _here_.  Primus help him, Cyclous was right _here_ , holding him as his body revved and his spark ached to be touched.  
  
 He couldn’t very well fondle himself in front of Cyclonus though… could he?  
  
 Wait… what if the new upgrades had made that impossible?  Even if Tailgate hadn’t done if often, he still enjoyed the occasional burst of full body warmth he’d get when he’d play with his spark.  Would he ever be able to feel that again?  
  
 He’d have to think about that later, right now he wanted to focus on what was going on with his body and how to fix it.  What were these new upgrades, and what did they do?  And why in the pit were they _wet_?  
  
 Cyclonus drug him out of his thoughts by letting him go and drawing his hands back.  He held himself just out of reach unless Tailgate leaned forward, but he knew if he did that he’d be reminded of all this… whatever in his interface panel. “Alright, let me tell you how to fix it and then I’ll get out of your way.” Tailgate felt panic roll up his spine at the thought of being left alone with recorded instructions on this new equipment.  His panic came out in a whimper. “You’ll want to open your panel and find your outer valve-node, then you’ll want to-” Tailgate cut him off by leaning forward and grabbing both of his hands.  
  
 The slosh behind his panel made him grimace.  
  
 “Cyclonus I won’t remember that.  I need someone to teach me this, not tell me.  I learn better by example, I mean I can remember stuff easy but using it in practice is something entirely different.” Tailgate had to put a clamp on his vocalizer when he realized he was rambling.  Of course he would be the only bot in the world to stumble so far off a cliff he fell into a sexual innuendo.  Only him.  
  
 Cyclonus’ engine got louder, and then slowly eased. “I could always show you.” His optics went bright and then dulled quickly.  Tailgate opened his mouth and his processor wandered so fast he had trouble staying upright.  
  
 “You… you would?” He tried not to let too much hope bleed into his voice, but there it was.  Tailgate would do anything to keep Cyclonus in the room with him, his only friend and his closest companion shouldn’t need to leave his own berth.  They practically shared a spark anyway, why not get a little intimate?  
  
 Tailgate really hoped that’s where this was going at least, otherwise he was going to be extremely confused.  
  
 Cyclonus swallowed and the sound of his throat constricting was audible.  His nod was slow and when he spoke his voice made Tailgate sigh. “Yes, anything for you.” There the poor bot went, making Tailgate fall even further in love with him.  How was he supposed to get anything done properly when Cyclonus did stuff like this on a daily basis?  It was really rude of him.  
  
 But also _so_ fragging perfect.  
  
 Tailgate shifted, trying to ignore how warm the fluid dripping down his thighs was. “What… what do I need to do?” He asked as he tried in vain not to squirm.  Cyclonus smiled and shifted on the berth, one hand patting the pillows.  
  
 “Just lay back down and prop yourself up so you can see what’s going on,” he instructed before standing, “you should get comfortable, I’ll go get more pillows.” Tailgate wanted to argue, wanted to plead that he wouldn’t need them, but Cyclonus had already left the recharge portion of their room.  After a moment, Tailgate shifted on the berth and grunted when the spilled fluid that had leaked from his seams turned cold and rolled down the inside of his thighs.  
  
 His back was pressed against the headboard, legs pulled up to his chassis as he bit his lip plating to try and ignore the drip of liquid.  The sloshing eventually settled and he sighed, looking down at the pink liquid smeared on his thighs.  For some reason the sight seemed to ignite his spark, causing his rev to build to the point he felt like squirming all over again.  If Cyclonus’ wasn’t in the other room he’d have handled this situation by himself, a quick pop of his chassis and a hand around his spark core would get him off in kliks.  
  
 Even rubbing the tips of his connection cords stored in his valve would have worked, but if he was dripping all over those electronics he feared for their functionality.  How was fluid a good upgrade?  With how wet he felt behind his interface panel he knew the cords would be submerged and possibly _floating_ in this strange pink substance.  He couldn’t figure out how he was meant to function when he had cords to plug in down there.  
  
 Cyclonus needed to hurry up with those pillows, Tailgate wasn’t sure if he was going to end up short circuiting his interface equipment at this rate or drowning it.  What if he already had?  He’d never get to interface with anyone _ever_ , he’d die a _virgin_!  
  
 Tailgate whined and opened his legs a little wider, looking down at his interface panel.  The seams were swollen and there was a slow ooze of pink fluid rolling down from the top to puddle onto the berth.  He swallowed at the sight and hesitantly reached down, finger running along the inside of his thigh to scoop up some of the fluid that was already smeared there.  He was interrupted from his inspection as Cyclonus walked in with an arm full of pillows.  The bigger bot took one look at Tailgate and smirked as he crooked a finger.  
  
 “Lean forward, you’re going to need these.” There was no room for argument.  Tailgate leaned forward and Cyclonus bent to rest the pillows behind the other mechs back.  When he was finished he pushed Tailgate into them gently and sat on the berth right between the mini-bots open legs. “Are you comfortable, can you see everything?” His voice was deep and soothing, it made something in Tailgates systems ease.  
  
 He let out a heavy sigh through his vents and leaned against the pillows, watching as Cyclonus put his hands on the berth.  “It’s all great, more than great, it‘s perfect.” He whispered, too scared of how his voice might come out otherwise.  Cyclonus smiled at him and leaned forward, one hand outstretched as he rubbed his thumb against Tailgate’s cheek.  His EM field brushed against Tailgate’s and oozed reassurance and calm.  Tailgate heard himself purr before he could stop it.  
  
 “I need you to spread your legs wider, both of them need to go on either side of me.” Cyclonus instructed, hands moving so they cupped both of Tailgate’s thighs.  The touch sent a jolt right into the mini-bots spark and he gasped, legs falling open as Cyclonus leaned forward. “Just like that.  It’s almost like you’ve done this before.” If Tailgate didn’t know any better he’d swear Cyclonus was teasing him.  He watched as Cyclonus’ spread his claws against the inside of his thighs, felt each sharp tip flick across his plating.  Instead of scaring him like it should have, those claws being so close to his interface panel, Tailgate had to fight to keep from moaning at the thought of where _else_ they could be.  
  
 He tried not to shift, hands gripping the pillows as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.  Cyclonus waited, even stopped moving his hands against the inside of Tailgate’s thighs until the mini-bot opened them again.  When he did, Cyclonus smiled at him and reached out, palm hovering over Tailgate’s interface panel. “Are you sure you’re alright with this?” he asked, one last quest for permission. “There’s no going back once I start… well there is, if you say no at any point I’ll stop.  But…” Cyclonus let the rest hang in the air, either at a loss for words or trusting Tailgate well enough to know what to fill the silence with.  
  
 There was no fear or hesitation in his voice when Tailgate spoke, and he felt a blossom of pride about that. “I’m positive, I want you to show me, Cyclonus.  I trust you.” Because he did, and not just with his new interface equipment either.  Tailgate trusted this bot with his life and he’d never regret it. “So uh… where do we start?  My interface cords?” The squeak didn’t help, but he couldn’t help it, how often did someone say interface cords in private and not mean… well _that_.  
  
 “About those, they were deemed obsolete about… three million years ago?  We still have them, but they’ve moved location.” Cyclonus’ hand moved from hovering over Tailgate’s interface panel to the underside of his chest piece.  He tapped there twice and a latch popped open, the hiss of his cords dropping making Tailgate squeak.  He quickly covered the opening, shaky hands fumbling to stuff the cords back in.  Cyclonus hushed him and helped, properly rolling and setting everything into its place before he closed the panel.  
  
 Tailgate swallowed, one hand rubbing over the small latch.  There had been no nerves there, no warmth.  It felt so… impractical, his cords weren’t sexy anymore and that confused him.  Also he’d just had Cyclonus _fondling_ them and he’d felt _nothing_.  How was he revved if he wasn’t going to use his cords?  Why did he still have a valve? “How am I supposed to interface now?  I don’t want to die a virgin just because it’s been outdated.”  He really hoped he’d muttered that low enough.  
  
 Cyclonus had heard him though and it made the larger bot chuckle as his hand dropped down once again to Tailgate’s interface panel.  This time his palm rested there and Tailgate moaned in surprise.  That had startled and aroused him.  Primus he was so embarrassing.  
  
 “Remember those upgrades?  I’ll walk you through them, now open up your panel for me?” Cyclonus rubbed his palm up and down the metal and Tailgate bucked his hips in surprise.  He’d never experienced pleasure from touching his interface panel, but maybe the pressure of Cyclonus’ palm was enough to press down on those new upgrades.  
  
 Tailgate unlocked himself and groaned happily as his panel sprung back.  The fluids that had gathered behind the metal splashed onto the berth and all over Cyclonus’ hand, the excess dripping and making the most obscene noise Tailgate had ever heard.  He had to fight not to cover his face, but his embarrassment was undermined by his need to know what was going on with his body.  Cyclonus hummed as he raised his hand and turned it, looking over the fluids rolling down the cords of his wrist.  
  
 “You really _were_ having a nice dream, weren’t you.” The bigger bot smirked and shook his wrist off before he bent forward. “Now, let’s get started.” Tailgate squeaked when his eyes followed Cyclonus’ hand to his new interface equipment.  Instead of hard metal  like he was used to, everything was pliant and soft.  Apparently some kind of inorganic smoothness had grown in place while he was under for the upgrades, they seemed so out of place now.  There were even lines of glowing biolights surrounding the entrance to his valve and a slit above it that looked swollen.  
  
 Tailgate watched as Cyclonus trailed his claw tip over one of the lights, never using enough pressure to hurt.  He couldn’t stop the tremble that escaped, and in a fit of embarrassment Tailgate covered his face. “Frag.” He whispered, trying to keep his legs open.  Cyclonus made no comment, just waited for Tailgate to uncover his eyes.  When he did he tapped an area to the left of the top slit.  
  
 “This is your spike fold, when you’re ready for it, your spike will pressurize and slide out.” Even sounding clinical Cyclonus somehow made his voice heated.  Tailgate nodded, still covering his mouth. “As you can see the silicon upgrade couldn’t be handled dry, hence all the transfluid lubricant.” The larger bots hand dropped to the bed and he scooped up some of the fluid from the berth. “It tends to stay warm when in contact with fingers or interface equipment, so it makes it easier to build your overload while keeping you comfortable.”  
  
 Tailgate’s right leg jerked and he bit down on his index finger.  Now he knew what was going on, that meter in his helm was telling him how close to the _overload_ he was, and it made him feel so stupid for not putting two and two together _sooner_.  He gazed back at Cyclonus to get his mind off the meter.  
  
 The larger mech was rubbing his fingers together, smearing the fluid until he felt satisfied with the texture.  He looked up long enough to catch Tailgate’s optics behind his visor before he turned his focus back to the mini-bots interface equipment.  Cyclonus’ fingers trailed over the spike folds slowly, smearing the outside with fluid almost lazily.  Tailgate felt his legs spread wider ever so slowly, much to his embarrassment.  Cyclonus just smirked as he used the slightest pressure to press against the folds.  
  
 “Feels good doesn’t it,” again, a statement instead of a question, “now there are two _basic_ ways to bring yourself to an overload.  There’s valve and node play, then there’s spike play; which do you want to focus on first?” Cyclonus asked patiently.  Tailgate had no idea how Cyclonus was keeping his composure when he was sitting there dripping and soaking the berth.  Maybe the larger mech wasn’t as interested as Tailgate had actually thought, maybe he really _was_ just teaching him how to use his new equipment.  Tailgate tried not to let that thought crush him too terribly. “Tailgate, are you paying attention?”  
  
 The mini-bot nodded quickly. “We… we could start with my spike I guess?  I’ve never had one before, the upgrade to have both was always too expensive, what’s it like?” The poor mini’s voice was so unsteady as he spoke, the sound muffled slightly by his fingers.  He kept rambling until Cyclonus chuckled and leaned over to kiss the seams of his hips.  Tailgate squeaked in shock, his hands quickly falling to grab the other bots shoulders.  His vents stuttered when Cyclonus pulled away, and Tailgate couldn’t help the whine that escaped him.  
  
 “It feels good, I _promise_ ,” Cyclonus shifted on the berth and Tailgate swallowed, “right, the first thing we need to do stimulate your outer node so your spike will pressurize.  This also builds up more transfluid to coat your valve in case you wanted to focus your attention there later on.” Cyclonus explained, one of his hands resting on the inside of Tailgate’s thigh and the other moved to the top of his valve.  He used the pad of his finger and slid it along the outside of Tailgate’s valve folds until he jerked.  Something sent a shock through his spark and made his temperature rise. “There we go, feel this bundle of nerves?” Cyclonus pressed down and Tailgate had to force himself from raising his hips into the touch, “This is your outer node, the best stimulation you’ll get is by paying attention to this.  You have you be careful of it though because it can easily turn into an oversensitive mess after a while.”  
  
 “Why?” Tailgate asked, voice warbled as Cyclonus started to slide his finger back and forth against the node.  
  
 “It will get you to overload the quickest, but when it does it rides the feedback the longest.”  He leaned in again and kissed Tailgate’s seams one more time.  
  
 After a few kliks Cyclonus had to hold Tailgate down with one hand to keep him from squirming at the touch.  As much as he enjoyed the sensation Tailgate found himself trying to move away from it.  This all felt like too much for one bot to handle, he’d never experienced something this _intense_ before.  This upgrade was crazy, how was he supposed to function after this?  How was he supposed to _think_ after this?  
  
 “Easy, you’re going to fry something if you don’t calm down.  If you over think an overload you spoil an overload.” Cyclonus whispered as he moved his hand to the spike folds.  His fingers spread them apart and Tailgate felt his hips rise as a weird pressure released in his plating.  Before he could come up with anything to say he was taken aback as his spike pushed through the folds.  He couldn’t hold back the moan this time, his fingers tightening against Cyclonus’ shoulders while his hips stuttered upward when the larger mech wrapped one hand around his spike and began stroking.  
  
 Before Tailgate could help himself he was babbling, everything coming out of his vocalizer harsh curses and pleas that were unintelligible as he tried to catch his breath.  Cyclonus waited them out, smiling the entire time until Tailgate whimpered and caught his breath.  
  
 His hands slowly released Cyclonus’ shoulders and he pulled them back to his eyes, optics flickering before he hazardly trained them on the larger mech. “I… I’m sorry Cyclonus,” he let out one long sigh, “I was just so close to overload, I mean I think I was.  I wasn’t paying attention to the needle but I think it was flicking into the red and we haven’t even really started.  I mean all you did was touch my… I mean you-” He was cut off when Cyclonus leaned in to kiss him.  
  
 Every thought he’d been flinging around his processor came to an abrupt halt and he tensed up.  Cyclonus was slow about the kiss, one hand still resting on the base of Tailgate’s spike while the other cupped around the minibots cheek.  He hummed when Tailgate made a sad sound as he tried to pull back.  The smaller bot lifted both his hands and put them on either side of Cyclonus’ face plates, tugging him gently until they were kissing again.  
  
 This time it wasn’t a surprise, it was something slow and sweet.  As sweet as any kiss with Cyclonus could be, and to Tailgate it was the most romantic thing he could have ever thought up.  Cyclonus’ lip plates were dry and hard, he used too much pressure and he was clumsy when their plates brushed, but Tailgate adored the kiss _so_ much.  He didn’t care that it wasn’t what an average bot would call good, hell he called it _perfect_.  How couldn’t he?  This was _happening_ , he wasn’t just dreaming it!  
  
 When they pulled back to breath he pinched a wire at his hip just to make sure he was really awake.  His yelp made Cyclonus laugh before their helms rested together, Tailgate’s optics closing in bliss.  
  
 And then Cyclonus started stroking his spike again and his hands went right back to the older bots shoulders. “Hey,” Cyclonus’ voice was right in his receptor, “you realize I want you to overload right?  Many times in fact, I want you to feel every single kind of pleasure and I…” Cyclonus trailed off when Tailgate jerked his hips into one of the strokes.  His entire frame was trembling, the light from his visor dimming and then flaring every few seconds. “I want to experience it with you, I want to be your first for everything.  I want to be selfish with you.” Cyclonus’ voice steadily dropped until he was muttering, helm still resting against Tailgate’s until the mini-bot jerked so hard he scraped across the berth.  
  
 Tailgate’s babbling started up again, and this time Cyclonus let him.  He moved on the berth so the smaller bot could bury his face in his neck seams, practically devouring every noise Tailgate made as if it were highgrade.  The feel of the bigger mech’s hand on his spike was so strange but still a delight to each and every new nerve ending that came with the upgrade.  Certain movements or twists actually made Tailgate’s system flicker, but it wasn’t a bad flicker.  This was like a sleepy flicker, as if he’d just woken up from a pleasant dream.  
  
 Only everything was hotter and the dream was _real_ , the sensation of an added interface piece making his entire body spasm and clench.  His valve clamped down on nothing and he whined, it was almost unbearable to feel so empty yet so perfect all at once.  
  
 And then his optics turned off and something inside his spark exploded, or maybe just popped?  Whatever had happened it had hit him full bodied and made him cry out, hips jerking so hard that Cyclonus’ had to hold him down.  The hand on his spike was quick and then so slow that Tailgate found he couldn’t handle the pressure.  He attempted to reach down and swat Cyclonus’ hand away but all his systems were rebooting.  All he could do was let out a whine.  
  
 That seemed to be enough of a giveaway though because Cyclonus’ pulled his hand away and focused instead on drying his hands off on a towel beside their berth.  When he was done he started running those claws all over Tailgate’s body, even rubbing at the inside of Tailgate’s thighs.  The sensation made his recovery that much sweeter and Tailgate moaned as he relaxed against the berth and sank down.  
  
 His aft slid into the puddle of his transfluid and Tailgate didn’t even care, whatever had just happened had made him feel… well, there were no real words.  If _that_ was an overload with the upgrade, he’d never get out of the berth, he’d spend all his time right here going at it with Cyclonus until he _rusted_.  
  
 Cyclonus seemed to have the same plans.  He scooted down the berth until he was laying flat, then took both of Tailgate’s thighs into his hands and tossed them over his shoulders.  Tailgate couldn’t even protest, all he could really do was hum and relax.  When one of Cyclonus’ hands found Tailgate’s own and wound their fingers together the mini-bot made a content sound that echoed somewhere in his throat.  
  
 With his legs off the berth it made it less likely he’d be as messy, so whenever Tailgate could gather his words he’d have to thank Cyclonus for being so thoughtful.  
  
 “Are you still with me, Tailgate?” Cyclonus asked, but all Tailgate could do was laugh and use his free hand to press against his own cheek. “You poor thing, are you worn out already?” Something in his voice made Tailgate look down.  His optics caught the hungry look Cyclonus was shooting him, the way his glossa moved over his lip plates was entirely too enticing.  How could he be ready to try this again so quickly?  Tailgate swallowed and took a moment to find his voice, something about this was exciting him.  
  
 “I’m fine.” He managed, though it sounded weak and feeble.  Cyclonus didn’t seem to mind, he just squeezed Tailgate’s hand and turned to kiss the inside of his thigh.  
  
 “Tell me if this starts to be too much, alright?” Before Tailgate could even ask, Cyclonus had leaned in and dragged his glossa up Tailgate’s valve folds.  The feeling was such a surprise that Tailgate gasped, squeezing Cyclonus’ hand tightly while his other dropped to the berth.  Cyclonus chuckled as he swallowed the transfluid he’d lapped up on his glossa and hummed. “Frag, I knew you’d taste sweet.”  
  
 Tailgate whimpered and gripped the pillows beneath him.  Hearing those words were going to tumble him over the edge and he hadn’t even had proper stimulation. “Don’t talk like that...” Tailgate stuttered out, much to Cyclonus’ delight.  
  
 “Whatever you want, it just means I’ll have more time to pay attention to your valve.” Cyclonus whispered before he closed his optics and buried his glossa between the folds.  The mini-bot whimpered at the contact and tried to distract himself from the heavy feeling of satisfaction at every flick.  His hips tilted into the touch and his thighs tensed around Cyclonus’ shoulders.  Tailgate was unable to help the way his hips kept shying away when Cyclonus’ licked passed the folds.  Whenever the tip of that glossa would push into him and flick at the inner rim of his valve he would have to fight not to gasp in shock and scramble away.  
  
 Cyclonus seemed to enjoy each and every reaction, free hand holding Tailgate’s hip even as he pulled back.  One of his hands left Tailgate’s hand so he could wipe his face plate off, fingers now sticky with transfluid.  Tailgate swallowed as he watched, feeling the warm air from Cyclonus’ cheek plates puff on his open valve.  When the larger mech caught him staring he smirked and lifted his hand.  
  
 “What, did you want to try it?” he asked with a smirk.  Tailgate jerked in shock when the words finally sunk in.  Try it?  How was he supposed to _try_ his own _transfluid_?  Would that even be okay?  Cyclonus seemed to be enjoying it if all his humming was any indication, so it couldn’t be that bad… could it?  Tailgate hesitated, would the other mech think bad of him for being curious?  Probably not since he’d asked him in the first place…  
  
 Tailgate decided to go for it and nodded, he didn’t have the energy to vocalize anything anyway.  All of his nerve endings were far too frazzled to process things like this at a normal speed, so sparkling steps were the best call.  
  
 Between his legs Cyclonus chuckled before he dropped his fingers to Tailgate’s valve and dipped them to the entrance between the folds.  There was a slight pressure at the touch and Tailgate tried not to yelp in surprise.  
  
 Cyclonus’ optics narrowed. “What happened?” he asked, keeping his fingers where they were, “did one of my fingers slip in too far for you?” His smirk was back after a moment as his glossa came out to lick at his lip plates.  Tailgate shook his head no and swallowed when Cyclonus twitched his fingers with a chuckle.  When he pulled them back Tailgate couldn’t help the whine.  For some reason his body had started to expect the intrusion, so when Cyclonus pulled back there was an unexpected release of tightened nerves from his valve.  
  
 The hand that had been nestled between his legs lifted and poised over Tailgate’s lip plates. “Here, try it.” Cyclonus instructed.  Tailgate swallowed again as he stared at the pink fluid dripping from Cyclonus’ fingers.  He hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward slowly to lick at the tip of one of the bigger mech’s fingers.  His glossa flicked across the claw tip and he tried not to moan at how _sweet_ the transfluid really was.  Tailgate hadn’t expected that, for some reason he’d expected something bitter even though he‘d heard Cyclonus tell him otherwise.  
  
 Cyclonus turned his finger in offering and Tailgate felt his cheek plates heat up as he closed his optics and licked the other mechs finger again.  The texture was sticky and thick, like a thin syrup or melted candy, the sweetness not as strong as a treat but still heavy on his tongue.  When he swallowed the fluid, Cyclonus hummed and tapped a finger against Tailgate’s lip plates.  He didn’t say as much, but Tailgate figured the mech was asking him to suck on his fingers.  
  
 At least, Tailgate _hoped_ that was what Cyclonus had been doing, because if it wasn’t then Cyclonus was in for a surprise.  Tailgate leaned in without a second thought and wrapped his lip plates around Cyclonus’ finger, sucking almost greedily on the fluid there.  He didn’t know if this made him depraved, but the noise it caused Cyclonus to make was worth every ounce of depravity if that was the case.  He let his glossa rub against the pad of Cyclonus’ finger as he pulled his hand closer, moaning around the digit.  Tailgate got so engrossed in the feel of a finger in his mouth he was surprised when Cyclonus buried his face back in his valve.  
  
 The noise he made was almost comical as Cyclonus lifted Tailgate’s hip with one hand and thrust his glossa passed the rim of his valve.  Tailgate rolled his hips unconsciously and pushed Cyclonus further in, causing him to gasp and let the bigger mechs fingers slide out of his mouth.  He moaned and reached for the hand as it started to retreat and squeezed again, pulling it to his chest as he closed his optics.  A slow pressure was building up in his gut as Cyclonus’ let go of his hip to place his fingers against the folds of Tailgate’s valve.  The bigger mech hummed when the sides of his glossa brushed his own fingers and he pulled back just enough so he could push his finger into Tailgate instead.  Just one was still a stretch, and Tailgate cried out in shock as he squeezed Cyclonus’ hand tighter.  
  
 He hadn’t been expecting that to feel so… uncomfortable.  It was a weird stretch, like his seams were swelling against his chassis and threatening to burst.  Cyclonus waited, finger still in Tailgate’s valve as he continued to lick at the folds.  When Tailgate sighed Cyclonus looked up and dragged his glossa up to the mini-bots outer node.  He gave it an almost experimental flick and Tailgate shuddered.  
  
 “Does this hurt?” Cyclonus muttered, still so close to his valve as he slid his finger in and out.  Tailgate just shook his head no and tried to relax into the pillows again.  With a hum, Cyclonus pushed another finger next to his first and stopped when Tailgate hissed.  He looked up and frowned at the other bots whine. “Tailgate… you don’t have to agree to anything if you don’t like it.  This is about finding ways that you enjoy to get you off, not forcing yourself to sit through things you don’t like just because you want to try them.”  Cyclonus began to pull his fingers out and Tailgate’s optics shot open.  The hand that had been gripping the pillows moved to grab the bigger mechs wrist and still it.  
  
 “No!” Tailgate heard his fans rev up. “No, I… don’t stop… just go slower.” He tried not to stutter over himself, but knew he was a lost cause. “I like it, I promise, it’s just so… _new_.” Cyclonus watched as Tailgate huffed and let his wrist go to cover his face.  After a moment Cyclonus hummed and brushed his glossa against Tailgate’s outer node again.  
  
 “I can go slower, I don’t want to hurt you. I…” Cyclonus paused, mouth open as if he wanted to continued, but for some reason he didn’t.  Tailgate pressed his back into the pillows as Cyclonus shook his head and went back to focusing on the mini-bots outer node.  His thoughts were torn between the pleasure and the tension from whatever Cyclonus had started to say.  Whatever it was it was being drowned beneath the pleasure faster and faster when Cyclonus started thrusting his finger in and out of Tailgate’s valve.  
  
 The shock quickly wore off to be replaced by a very strange pleasure, a thick heat almost that had the smaller bot moaning and trying to stop himself from rolling into it.  The fact that he was so eager, so receptive to something this _new_ to his system was still so strange.  He almost wanted to stop, but the build up of pleasure was enough to keep him clinging to Cyclonus.  
  
 When the bigger bot put his mouth around Tailgate’s outer node and sucked, the mini-bot couldn’t help but cry out, hips jerking even though he was trying to be cautious of the finger thrusting in and out of him.  Cyclonus did it again, this time with a flick of his glossa, and Tailgate rolled his hips down so quickly that Cyclonus was able to slide another finger inside of him.  The pressure was back, but the attention to his node was enough to distract him.  
  
 Tailgate felt his thighs tense up when Cyclonus twisted his wrist and pushed his fingers up, a new feeling making him whimper.  His fingers squeezed Cyclonus’ hand so hard he could hear the digits groan under the pressure.  The sound was both intoxicating and embarrassing, he never imagined he’d be this lost in sensation before.  As Cyclonus’ started to spread his fingers and thrust them at the same time, Tailgate let out a long moan.  
  
 The bigger bot pulled back and let out an unsteady sigh, and after a bit of shifting Tailgate heard the hiss of an interface panel releasing.  His back arched off the pillows and he whimpered when Cyclonus moved both of Tailgate’s legs to the berth.  His optics trained on Cyclonus as the bigger bot brought himself to his knees.  Slowly Tailgate looked down until Cyclonus’ spike came into view, and when it did he made a strangled noise.  
  
 That wasn’t a spike, it was a monster.  How did Cyclonus take care of that thing?  Tailgate wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to wrap _both_ his hands around it.  
  
 Or maybe his fear was just because this was honestly the first spike he’d ever seen that wasn’t his own.  Then again he’d only seen his own spike for the first time _today_ , so maybe that wasn’t a good comparison.  All the while that he was drinking in the sight of the larger mechs spike, Cyclonus was thrusting his fingers in and out of his valve.  When he twisted his wrist and moved his thumb to rub against Tailgate’s outer node he squeaked in shock.  
  
 “Cyclonus!” His voice was much higher than he’d intended it to be, but it still seemed to have an effect.  The sound of his voice seemed to make Cyclonus freeze, a long groan falling out of his mouth as he closed his optics.  Tailgate bit his lower lip plate and tried not to smile.  He might have felt like a debauched mess, but he could still bring Cyclonus to his knees.  
  
 Both literally and fugitively it seemed.  
  
 Tailgate released Cyclonus’ hand and reached out, motioning for the larger mech to lean down. “Come here, I… I want to kiss you again.” Maybe he could have asked if that was okay instead of saying it like a demand, but at this point Tailgate didn’t care.  Neither did Cyclonus apparently, because he was quick to lean in and let Tailgate wrap his arms around his neck as they kissed.  His fingers had slowed considerably in Tailgate’s valve, but it was still a stretch and thrust here and there as they kissed.  
  
 Cyclonus still tasted like Tailgate’s transfluid and it drove the mini-bot wild, that sweet flavor mixed with a heady spice that was purely Cyclonus.  Tailgate couldn’t help but moan when he felt the bigger mech flick his glossa against his plating.  He reciprocated and followed Cyclonus’ lead, trailing his glossa after the larger mechs and trembling as they brushed together.  
  
 When he pulled back Tailgate sighed, helm pressed to Cyclonus’ as the larger mech pulled his fingers out.  The removal made a wet pop and Tailgate whined, hips rolling down to try and chase after the feeling.  He’d gotten accustomed to the sensation so fast that he felt almost hollow without it.  
  
 “Easy, four fingers was as much as I was going to attempt.” Tailgate pulled back and stared at Cyclonus in shock.  
  
 “What are you talking about, there were only two.” He felt his voice tremble as his legs tried to close.  Four fingers?  Now that was unlikely, Tailgate had barely felt enough room for the two.  
  
 Cyclonus just chuckled as he leaned in to kiss Tailgate’s fore helm. “You get really wet when we kiss, slipping my fingers inside of you was so easy I thought I might have been able to fist you if we kept going.  I can’t believe you didn’t notice.” His voice was sultry and sweet but his words made Tailgate freeze up.  He almost slammed his legs shut right then and there and told Cyclonus he was done, but for some reason the thought made his valve clench in a weird kind of excitement.  
  
 “That’s… a thing?  Bots actually do that?” Tailgate asked as Cyclonus turned his head and started kissing Tailgate’s neck.  
  
 “It can be, it’s not everybots thing though, some don’t even like their valve touched, others _only_ want valve play.” Cyclonus explained between kisses.  Tailgate sighed happily and turned his head as well, showing off his seams for the other bot.  At this angle he could see Cyclonus’ spike, so thick and glowing such a bright purple as the biolights trailed up the shaft.  
  
 With a swallow, Tailgate shifted and pushed his legs apart. “Do… do you like your valve played with?” He asked hesitantly.  Cyclonus just hummed before nipping at one of the exposed cords.  
  
 “Sometimes, I mostly pay attention to my spike and outer node.  It’s not as fun to play with my valve unless someone else is there with me.” A thought flickered across Tailgate’s mind about how Cyclonus’ had spent so long in the Dead Universe, so when had he time to play with other people?  The weird surge of jealousy was new to him.  
  
 He shook the thought off when Cyclonus sucked on one of his seams until he moaned. “You’re going to drive me crazy.” Tailgate whimpered as he squirmed on the berth.  Cyclonus just laughed and pulled back, much to Tailgate’s protesting when his hands had to slide down to the other bots chest.  
  
 “Did you want me to get you off with my mouth?  Or do you mind if I take care of myself first and then come back?” Cyclonus asked as he glanced down at his spike.  Tailgate looked down too and felt his valve clench at the fleeting thought of what that thing might feel like inside of him.  Could that even work?  Could spikes go in valves?  Or was he just greedy to have something stuffed back inside of him?  
  
 He thought it over and shook his head no. “You’re not going anywhere, if you want to take care of it by all means take care of it, but you’re going to stay here with _me_.” Tailgate felt like a selfish sparkling saying that, but honestly who fragging cared?  He had Cyclonus between his legs, revved to the point that his spike was out.  Cyclonus was so turned on by Tailgate that he wanted to _overload_ , why the _frag_ would he tell him to leave?  
  
 His words made Cyclonus groan as he dropped his hands to Tailgate’s shoulders and dragged him up so he was sitting. “Turn around and face the headboard, on your hands and knees.” Cyclonus said, his voice hitching as he finished.  Tailgate whined and reached up, dragging Cyclonus down to him for a kiss before he let go and did as he was instructed.  
  
 As he got into position his knees knocked against Cyclonus’ and he laughed, one hand pressed to the berth while the other covered his face.  His fans were a steady hum as he turned to look back at Cyclonus, a smile on his face.  Cyclonus took his time getting into place, bent down on his knees with one hand on his spike, the other resting on Tailgate’s hip.  
  
 “Lift your aft up,” Cyclonus muttered, “I want to see every inch of your valve spread open.” Tailgate almost choked on his intake when Cyclonus said that.  Who knew that words could hold _that_ much power over somebots overload drive?  
  
 With a long sigh, Tailgate did as he was told and eased himself down so his aft was in the air and his legs were spread.  His chest ended up propped against the pillows, arms wrapping around one of them as he waited.  The room filled with the sounds of their fans and the wet slick of Cyclonus’ stroking his spike as he leaned down.  
  
 Tailgate felt Cyclonus’ vents on his valve before his glossa pressed there, but it still made him tense up in shock when they came in contact.  How had he lasted this long?  Surely he was close to his overload at this point, he couldn’t take much more of this dragged out torture.  Not that he was complaining about how good it felt, more that he was getting anxious to feel his second overload.  
  
 Cyclonus was faster this time, glossa flicking at his outer node when it wasn’t buried deep in Tailgate’s valve.  More than once Tailgate thought he was on the cusp of overloading, but single every time he got close Cyclonus would pull back and vent hot air against his valve folds and jerk his own spike harder.  This was some kind of torture, Tailgate’s vocalizer was killing him from every sound he’d been making.  Though to be honest most of it was pleas for Cyclonus to continue, or happy noises as he got closer and closer to his overload.  
  
 He’d stopped using words though, his processor too busy cycling through feelings rather than vocalizations.  Who wanted to talk when they could moan after all?  Each one made Cyclonus hum in pleasure, and that sent a sweet vibration straight through Tailgate’s valve and right to his core.  This was heaven, Primus made a great choice when he put this upgrade idea into the head of whatever bot that set it forth.  
  
 Cyclonus’ glossa had found that internal node his fingers had rubbed against earlier and was currently torturing it, and Tailgate was ready to scream.  His face was buried in his hands as Cyclonus practically drank up his transfluid, but Tailgate was pretty sure the other bot was just as gone as he was.  
  
 Hopefully.  
  
 Frag, now was not the time to be thinking that Cyclonus might not enjoy this.  If the sound of his palm against his spike was any indication, Cyclonus was _loving_ this.  It was quick and wet, and the mere thought that the other bots transfluid was leaking so much that it might be dripping on the berth made Tailgate cry out.  He was right _there_ , so close to just overloading down Cyclonus’ throat.  Tailgate had never wanted anything more in his entire _life_!  
  
 But then Cyclonus pulled back and Tailgate really did scream.  His pushed himself up, looking back as Cyclonus smirked and licked his lip plates. “What?” he asked, feigning ignorance.  Tailgate wanted to reach back and strangle him.  
  
 “Don’t you _dare_ , you know I’m close, how do you always _know_?” Tailgate didn’t even care that he was whining, he was frustrated and Cyclonus wasn’t helping him at all.  Cyclonus just laughed and grabbed Tailgate’s leg when he tried to kick him.  
  
 “Your valve clenches around my glossa and you start trembling in your thighs.” Cyclonus whispered.  Tailgate made a noise of utmost distress and tried not to cry.  This wasn’t okay, he was going to either die of overheating or get ejected into space for killing Cyclonus.  
  
 Probably killing Cyclonus.  
  
 When Tailgate could breath again he looked back and watched Cyclonus jerk his spike slowly, holding the base more than the shaft.  Something about that made him swallow and draw in a quick intake.  What would that feel like in his valve, would it even fit?  Would Cyclonus even agree to it?  
  
 “You’re over thinking something, I can hear the gears in your head spinning.” Cyclonus said, snapping him out of his thoughts.  Tailgate narrowed his eyes at him and huffed.  
  
 “There aren’t any gears in my head, it’s a processor just like yours.” He muttered.  When Cyclonus slapped his aft he squeaked, turning to snap something at him, but instead he just huffed. “Brat, I was…” Tailgate paused and hit his bottom lip plate. “I was thinking about your… your spike, what it might feel like if you put it inside of me.” He rushed the end of his sentence and tried to catch his breath.  
  
 Cyclonus just stared at him a moment, then _groaned_ and dropped his hand from Tailgate’s hip to the berth.  His other hand had gripped the base of his spike tight, his optics closed.  He cursed a few times and Tailgate hunched his shoulders.  He was about to apologize when Cyclonus leaned over him and started kissing the back of his neck.  
  
 “You are _not_ allowed to be this perfect,” Cyclonus whispered, “the thought of my spike thrusting inside of you almost made me overload.  Did you plan that?” Cyclonus nipped at one of the cords in Tailgate’s neck and the mini-bot tried not to moan. “Did you plan on making me drip all over the berth while I watched you swallow me up in this perfect valve?” This time Tailgate did moan.  
  
 Later on he was going to have a serious conversation with Cyclonus about playing fair and how he _obviously_ hadn’t.  Right now though?  Right now his mind was on one thing and one thing only.  
  
 “Cyclonus please.” He could barely get in an intake and his fans were running so fast they had started to squeak.  
  
 “Please what?” Cyclonus ran one hand down Tailgate’s back and he arched into the touch. “Can you tell me what you want, or is that too much?  Do you want me to just frag you and stop talking about it?  Do you want me to slide my spike into your valve and make you scream for it?” Tailgate felt his head begin to spin.  
  
 “ _Yes_ ,” he pleaded, “frag me, do it _please_ Cyclonus.” Let it never be said that begging makes somebot weak.    
  
 Cyclonus groaned and let his helm fall to Tailgate’s shoulder. “It might hurt,” he warned, “but if you tell me to stop I will.” Tailgate grunted and reached back to grab Cyclonus’ helm and turn it for a kiss.  
  
 “Get your spike in me _now_.” He demanded, drinking up the sound that Cyclonus made before he pulled back and moved so his legs were right behind Tailgate’s.  He could feel the other bots spike press against the folds of his valve and it made him moan.  Even if he couldn’t see it, he could feel how thick that thing was.  
  
 If Tailgate was able to take the entire thing he’d fragging make his own stupid Rodimus star and wear it everywhere.  
  
 Cyclonus sighed and Tailgate could feel it waft against the back of his neck.  He tried to relax as the tip of the other bots spike slid between his folds, but when it began pressing at his rim he tensed up.  A hand slipped between Tailgate’s legs and Cyclonus wrapped it around Tailgate’s spike.  The mini-bot tensed up more and then relaxed when the larger mech started stroking him.  The more he relaxed the more spike Cyclonus pushed into him until Tailgate felt like he was going to feel the damn thing hit his glossa.  
  
 Eventually Cyclonus stopped stroking Tailgate’s spike and moved to rub gently at his outer node, kissing along his shoulder as he let Tailgate get used to the feeling.  He was surprised that he didn’t feel like he was being split in two, but he also felt like a stuffed turbo fox.  If he moved at all he was sure spike would be coming out of his mouth.  
  
 Okay not literally, but still.  
  
 When the attention to his node made him jerk, Cyclonus hummed and let go, moving his hand up so he could turn Tailgate’s face toward him for a kiss.  Tailgate happily returned it, melting into every second until Cyclonus pulled back.  The stretch was now obvious, a slow burn starting at his seams and rolling outwards.  
  
 “You feel so _good_.” Cyclonus whispered, voice barely a whisper. “I love you so much.” Tailgate gasped and reached up, quickly snatch Cyclonus’ hand to keep him from moving away.  He wasn’t sure if he’s heard that correctly, but his internal memory replayed it and he couldn’t help the way his hips rolled.  
  
 Holy scrap grenades that spike was _still_ there, still as big as ever.  
  
 “Easy, I’ll take care of you.” Cyclonus gripped Tailgate’s hip and held him in place as he rolled his own so his spike pulled back and then thrust forward.  The motion would have rocked Tailgate into the headboard if Cyclonus hadn’t been holding him.  Every node inside his valve was being stimulated with each roll, and Tailgate couldn’t keep himself quiet even if he’d been trying to.  
  
 Cyclonus rocked into him slow but hard, keeping Tailgate in place.  The mini-bot eventually felt like he might be slipping on the bed, so he reached up to grab the headboard of the berth.  He hadn’t even realized he was cursing until Cyclonus started laughing, pausing to let him catch his breath.  They didn’t say anything else, just held each other close when Cyclonus started up again.  
  
 Tailgate felt his valve clench several times, and each of them surprised him as he felt the ridges on Cyclonus’ spike warm and press against his nodes.  How was he meant to walk after this?  How was he meant to do _anything_ after this?  
  
 Slag it, he’d stay in bed and make Cyclonus frag him until the world ended.  
  
 Before Tailgate knew what was happening, he could feel his overload welling up and then punching him in the gut.  He screamed and squeezed Cyclonus’ hand until his systems blacked out.  When he came back to himself Cyclonus was still thrusting, the feel of that spike pushing into his over-sensitive valve making him gasp and give a quick clench.  
  
 “Cyclonus… oh frag.” Before he could ask the other bot to stop he felt Cyclonus’ tense up and then felt him overload.  The fluids from his spike were almost scalding and they made him gasp, his frame weak and falling into the pillows.  He didn’t even care that he was laying in a puddle of his own transfluid, or that Cyclonus was still _mostly_ buried inside of him.  
  
 All that Tailgate could think about was how wonderful and _full_ he felt, and that Cyclonus had said _‘I love you.’_ Primus this was perfect!  He’d better say it back though, it wouldn’t do to leave a bot hanging like that.  Only as he opened his mouth to say so, Cyclonus pulled his spike out and closed his interface panel with a hiss of steam.  
  
 Large hands rolled Tailgate over and Cyclonus was on him in a klik, kissing him almost hungrily.  Tailgate moaned and kissed back, and even though he could barely lift his arms he felt so wonderful.  When his mouth was free Tailgate smiled, opening his eyes to look up at Cyclonus as the larger mech brushed fingers against his helm.  
  
 “I love you too.” Tailgate muttered, turning his face to kiss the inside of the larger mechs wrist.  There, everything resolved.  Cyclonus just kept smiling, fingers tracing from Tailgate’s helm all the way to his stomach.  He paused there and his smile faltered. “What?” Tailgate attempted to sit up, but found he couldn’t.  
  
 “I need to clean you up, I knew I should have pulled out, you weren’t built for a full load like that.” Cyclonus put a hand to Tailgate’s extended belly seams. “I need to empty you out so you don’t rust.” He looked away as if he were ashamed and Tailgate laughed.  
  
 How in the _world_ did he end up with Cyclonus of all people?  It was perfect. “Can it wait?  I just want to… frag it, you’re _going_ to cuddle me.” Tailgate lifted an arm with great effort and pulled Cyclonus down until the other bot was spooned around him.  He felt his interface panel shut now that it was obvious he was done, and he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.  
  
 “You’re so cute when you get demanding.” Cyclonus muttered.  Tailgate was pretty sure that was actually sarcasm, but he’d let it slide for now.  He was still riding that overload after all, and as much as he knew he was going to hurt later, right now he just couldn’t give a slag.  
  
 “Uh huh, you have more stuff to teach me after you clean me up.” Tailgate said through a sudden yawn. “Plug me in for a bit?  I doubt I’m going anywhere.”


End file.
